What Lies Ahead

Nine

"P-professor," Harry stammered, confusion furrowing his brow.

Ignoring the boy, Snape turned and faced Voldemort with a stony expression. "My Lord, I have assured you of my allegiance."

"And you will prove it by showing no hesitation in torturing the boy," replied Voldemort shortly

"You git. You bloody git," Harry spat in disbelief. How could his Professor even be considering this? Sure, Harry had known of Snape's loathing for him, but enough hate to be considering torture? "I knew…"

A wad of cloth appeared suddenly in Harry's mouth, blocking the remainder of his accusations. He gagged around the sudden intrusion and tried hopelessly to push the obstruction out with his tongue.

"Do be quiet, Potter, the adults are talking," Voldemort scolded with a one-sided grin. "Now, Severus, I leave the decision up to you."

With a short bow, Snape turned to face Harry once again however, he was sneering at a spot just above his left shoulder. Harry could see the dark sparkle of hatred that normally greeted him during potions class. It was the same one that he'd received at the beginning of term when he and Ron had been dragged to Snape's office; the one that said Harry was in trouble and Snape was going to enjoy rubbing his nose in it.

The professor raised his wand, brandishing it like a sword, but before he could utter a word, Voldemort interrupted him.

"Ah Snape, I think something without magic would be better."

"My Lord," Snape asked taken aback.

"Something a bit more personal, something you can not easily detach yourself from."

With a wave of a wand, Voldemort drew a long braided whip from thin air and held the dark leather handle out for Snape to take. "A good, old fashioned whipping should suffice."

Harry watched as Snape's eyes rested on the weapon being presented to him. Surely he wouldn't take it. Surely he had some decency in him. However, Harry felt his stomach drop as the man reached out a steady hand and wrapped his fingers around the smooth handle; not an ounce of hesitation in his movements.

Snape paced lazily forward, eyes still examining the whip in his hands. He stopped at arm's length and brought his cold gaze up to the mess of black hair atop Harry's head. His sneer widened as he reached out and pulled the wad of cloth from Harry's mouth, unstoppering the flow of swears.

"You arse," Harry growled. He swept his tongue around his dry mouth and then over his cracked lips. There was no point in being compliant now. Professor Snape said nothing, instead, he walked around the boy, like a shark circling its prey.

Instantly, Harry's head swiveled trying to keep an eye on the man. Something about not being able to see what he was planning made Harry's skin crawl. He jerked his head in the other direction but Snape's soft footsteps had stopped. Gritting his teeth, Harry felt his heart begin to race in anticipation.

A sharp crack rang around the room causing Harry to flinch violently away from the sound; however,  no pain accompanied it. He gave an involuntary laugh, fear forcing it from his lips as he shook his head. This couldn't be happening.

"Something funny, Potter," Professor Snape asked addressing Harry directly for the first time.

"Y-you can't do this," stuttered Harry, frustration rising at the sound of fear in his voice.

A soft chuckle answered him and then a burning heat spread across his back followed by another sharp snap. The force knocked him forward and he stumbled to remain upright. He took a sharp inhale but was able to bite back the cry that fought desperately for escape.

"How is that? Still funny?"

Crack! Harry's back arched as he tried to escape the pain pulling at his skin. Even through his thick jumper, he could feel the whelps rising along his spine, winding there way up to his shoulder. Tears stung his eyes but, clenching them tight, he held back another wail.

It only took two more strikes to produce a whimper from his trembling lips. Tears streaked down his flushed face, collecting on his chin before dripping to the stone floor below.

"That's it, Potter. Now beg me to stop."

The next strike tore a ragged cry from deep down in his chest. A cool draft washed over his ravaged skin and he realized that part of his shirt had been torn away revealing his bare back for the next lash. The anticipation was nearly as bad as the blow itself, but the sharp pop of leather against skin brought Harry to sobs.

The final strike was by far the worst. He felt the braided leather tear deep into his skin; he felt the blood rush to the surface before pooling out onto the remainder of his tattered shirt. The sticky material now clung to him, it's color darkening with the more blood it collected.  Screaming out in abandon, Harry sagged forward, allowing the chains to catch him.

"S-stop…p-please," he begged without a second thought. He hated himself for allowing the plea, but he couldn't handle another hit.

"There's a good boy," praised Snape as he returned to stand in front of Harry. He dropped the whip to the floor beside him, and Harry was horrified to see his blood coating the cords. The sight of it made his stomach turn violently and he retched despite the emptiness of his stomach.

The professor gave his wand a wave and the chains pulled Harry back to a standing position. Harry's sobs turned into deep deliberate breaths as he regained some form of control over his emotions. He let his head loll back until he was staring at the rough ceiling above fighting for stability.

"Do you know how much I've longed to do that," Snape hissed barely above a whisper. He grabbed Harry roughly by the cheeks and pulled him down to face him; the cold look of loathing radiating from his black merciless eyes. "Since the first day you stepped into my classroom with that arrogant demeanor. Just like your father; stubborn, cocky, pretentious."

Harry's nostrils flared as anger chased away the pain coursing through his beaten body. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears and everything else faded away. Sucking in what little saliva was left in his mouth, Harry spit a rusty colored mixture of dried blood and spittle into the man's sneering face.

Shock quickly redirected to fury and suddenly James Potter was standing before him, that pompous smirk taunting him to action. He grabbed him by the throat, his grip tightening until Harry was thrashing for air. The boy kicked out, but the professor seemed unfazed as his crooked teeth bared into a crazed grimace.

"That will do Severus."

The voice rang around the room, but it took a minute for Snape to process the command. Reluctantly, he relinquished his hold on the boy's neck and took several steps back.

Harry sucked in deep breaths of the cold dank air; his lungs expanding painfully to accommodate the change. He coughed violently as his back stretched agonizingly with each breath, pulling the gashes taut across his spine. For a minute the world dimmed, the edges of his vision blurring as he tried to remain conscious.

"You may go, Snape," Voldemort said with a satisfied nod.

Professor Snape blinked several times as if the scene before him didn't make sense, and then, with a bow, he left the room.

Heaving a tired sigh, Voldemort waved his wand and a small plate of sandwiches appeared on the floor below Harry. Another wave and the shackles that had been the source of Harry's agony for two days sprung open, dumping the broken boy to the floor.

"Rest well, Harry. Tomorrow's a big day," Voldemort said, each word dripping with sarcasm, and he followed Snape out the door.